Saving Anya
by KittyOnAKeyboard
Summary: When Sam and Dean hear of a young girl within a mental hospital who supposedly has the power to know your past, they immediately come to investigate along with Castiel. However, when they find the child they are in for a shock: She has guardian spirit. Dean feels sorry for her and takes her out for a day of fun, but soon becomes rather attached. What will happen next?


**TRIGGER WARNING: This fic includes references to mental illnesses, drugs and depression. If you are uncomfortable with these topics I recommend you read at your risk.**

**I don't own the character's in _Supernatural, _nor the plotlines.**

**NOTE: This will be a one-chapter fanfic for a while, and when I _do _continue it the updates will be rather slow. I apologize for any inconvenience.**

* * *

_Schizophrenia-_  
_A mental disorder that includes delusions, loss of personality ("flat effect"), confusion, agitation, social withdrawal, psychosis and bizarre behavior._  
_Individuals with schizophrenia may hear voices that aren't there..._

* * *

"She's playing chess with herself," the orderly explained, nodding towards the door. "Does it at least once a week. She says it relaxes her."

"Is she... Temperamental?" Dean asked, peering in through the small smeared window and looking at the young teen who sat at a folding table, staring intently at a chessboard.

"Not really. She's actually one of the calmest schizos I've ever seen. Especially for one young." the orderly shrugged, removing his key ring and opening the door. "You have guests, sweetheart."

"Hm?" the girl looked up, her thin face showing faint surprise. "Let them in, I guess..."

The man nodded and opened the door wider.

"There ya' go, boys." He smiled slightly. "Have fun."

"We'd like some privacy, please." Sam asked, pulling out a badge and showing it to the orderly. "Thank you."

The brothers entered the room, Castiel following slowly as he glanced around the room with interest, and made their way over to the girl in the hard wooden chair. She had moved it into a patch of sunlight, yet she still clutched her sides, shivering. The oversized bluish-grey sweater she was swaddled in made her look even smaller than she was, like a sick child wrapped in blankets.

"You must be Anya." Sam smiled warmly and took a seat across from her. "I'm-"

"Sam Winchester..." She whispered, gazing at him with large hazel eyes ringed with orange. She had dark circles underneath them, hidden slightly by her long eyelashes, but she still had the sleep-deprived look of a drug-addict. "That's your name."

"Er, yeah. My real one, at least. So, I'm guessing what they said is true?"

"I'm not crazy, if that's what you're implying." She blinked slowly, moistening her chapped lips before picking up a water bottle and sipping from it. "But if you're talking about my knowing stuff, then yes."

"The latter." Sam said.

"Why do you have an angel with you?"

"Long story. Anyways..." Dean plopped down beside her and looked her in the eyes. "You wanna get outta the nuthouse?"

"Who doesn't?"

"Honest answer. I respect that."

"Honesty's important when you fight monsters. Without communication, boom, dead."

"Whatever. Anyways, we can get you out, but you have to answer a few questions first."

She paused and looked to her right, just past Castiel. Her gaze was strong, yet it held some kind of confusion. Tilting her head to the side, she nodded and turned back to Dean.

"Yes."

* * *

Anya squinted into the sunlight. She hadn't left the Lavender Hills Hospital grounds in over four years, and the pallor of her skin showed it. Sure, in the beginning she had spent time in the gardens, but she soon became afraid of the other patients. They weren't like her, she knew that much. The demons and angels that spoke to them weren't real, they didn't protect them. Miss Hunt had told her about how her angels had forced her to sing, dance, draw and bake until she passed out from exhaustion.  
The thought that something inside of your own head could harm you in such a way frightened Anya, and knowing that you could be destroyed from the inside out was something that haunted her.

But, Topher wasn't liked that. He helped her and told her things nobody else knew. And she could see him, unlike the other patients. He was real, solid, and she knew she was always safe with him nearby.

The shorter man, Dean, crossed over to a beautiful black car.

Impala. Topher told her, murmuring into her ear. Not sure which year, but it's a classic.

"I thought the older Impalas were out of commission?" Anya spoke to the air, examining the paint job.

"You know your cars, huh?" Dean grinned and stroked the hood lovingly. "1967 Chevy Impala... And still running strong."

Opening the driver's side, Dean slid into the car. Sam followed suit, along with Castiel.

"I haven't been in a car in a few years..." Anya said as she sat next to Castiel and buckled her seatbelt. "Are driving rules any different?"

"You sound like Captain America. It's only been, what, two years?"

"Three and a half."

Dean whistled, long and low. "A kid like you being locked up for so long just ain't cool. You know what, why don't we have a little fun before we get to business?"

"Like what?"

"Well, first of all..." Sam looked over to her and smiled. "You need some new clothes."

"Oh..." Anya looked down at her outfit, taking in the grungy oversized jeans, threadbare sweater and clunky sneakers. "I didn't know... That these were bad..."

"They aren't bad, per se." Sam explained to her as Dean began pulling out of the parking lot. "You're just gonna need some better clothes to move around in."

"Say 'goodbye' to the loony bin, kid." Dean called out as they raced down the gravel driveway. "Because you sure as hell aren't goin' back!"

* * *

"How do they feel?" Sam asked Anya as she stood in front of the mirror, gazing at her reflection. "They look good."

"They're comfortable." She said, tugging on the hem of the grey jeans and turning to the side. "But they're kind of expensive..."

"Don't worry about it, kid." Dean called out from the changing room next to her. Stepping out of it, he straightened his shirt and looked in the mirror next to her. "Hey, would you look at that!"

"What?"

"You look like my little sister. If I had one, that is." He turned his head to the side. "Same color hair, matching eyes, similar build... But you're way skinnier. Jesus, we need to get some food into you."

"That could be our cameo..." Sam mused, pulling two more pairs of jeans off the rack. "A little sister with her two brothers..."

"Sounds good to me." Dean said, tossing a few shirts to Anya. "Here. Try these on."

When the girl retreated to the privacy of the changing stall, Sam looked over to his brother.

"Are we really planning on taking her with us?"

"We can't just leave her alone. I looked in her file, dude. No living relatives willing to claim her. Foster care is hell."

"If you're serious about it, we'll do it. But she's gonna need to learn how to defend herself."

"Yeah, yeah. Add those jeans to the cart while I grab a jacket for her."

* * *

Three pairs of jeans, six new shirts, one pair of pajamas, a jacket, new sneakers and a set of white socks later, the team left the store. Sam dumped the stuff into the trunk as Dean mused about what type of food to get.

"I'm craving Mexican, but we might want burgers... Hm." He scratched his chin and flipped through the tourist guide he had found by the automatic doors. "Pizza is good too."

"What do you want, Anya?" Sam asked, helping switch out her ancient sweater for the brand new hoodie. "It's your day."

"I don't know. All of that sounds good..." She got into the car and waited patiently for Dean to decide.

"I'm kind of in the mood for iHop... Yeah, let's go there."

"What does iHop have?"

"You've never been there?" Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise. "That's practically a sin."

"They have pancakes," Sam explained, jumping into the passenger's seat. "Which I am most definitely up for!"

"I've never had pancakes before," Anya admitted, but they always sounded good.

"iHop it is!" Dean yelled, raising his fist in some sort of unspoken salute.

* * *

"Welcome to iHop!" A platinum blonde waitress grinned at them, holding a stack of menus to her bosom. "I'm Cynthia. Here are your menus!"

"Thank you," Sam said, taking one and handing another to Anya. "We'll be ready in a little while."

"Okay, sugar! Take your time!" She walked off, humming.

"Okay, Anya. Right now, we're your brothers. Anyways, what do you want?"

"Can I have that?" She asked, pointing to a picture of buttermilk pancakes with strawberries and whip cream. "That looks really yummy."

"Sure. Do you want anything to drink?"

"Milk, please."

Once Sam and Dean had decided on their food, the waitress came back with a clipboard in her hands. Her long, pink fingernails clicked sharply against the wooden board, and Anya winced slightly.

"Y'all ready to order?" She asked them, her southern drawl slow and sweet.

"Yeah." Dean said, stacking the menus. "I'll have the Breakfast Supreme and a beer-"

"Which one?"

"Corona."

"M'kay... How 'bout you, darling?" She turned to Sam, scribbling down Dean's order.

"Toast, eggs and coffee, please."

"And you, sweetheart?"

Anya was slightly surprised. She hadn't been called "sweetheart" since she was about four, and those times it had been few and far between. Suddenly feeling shy, she pointed to the picture in the menu.

"Oh, good choice!" The woman smiled. "You know what, I'm gonna give y'all a discount just because she's lookin' a little thin. I'll grab some extra bacon, too."

"She wants some milk, too, please." Sam told her, looking over to Anya. "Remember to say 'thank you'."

"Thank you..." Anya squeaked, looking down at her fork.

"I'll be back before you know it!" Cynthia danced away happily, muttering something about "cuteness" and "children".

Once she was back in the kitchen, Dean rolled his eyes.

"Say 'thank you'?" He snorted. "Who are you, Miss Manners?"

"It's important to be polite, Dean." Sam snapped back. "Not that you would know that."

"Ooh, burn." Dean said sarcastically, picking up his spoon and twirling it deftly between his fingers.

"I'm just trying to set a good example!"

"Yeah, because toting around weapons, living on the run, using fake credit cards, cussing and drinking demon blood is a great example."

Sam fell silent.

"Okay, that was kinda over the top..." Dean sighed, taking a hand through his hair. He looked over at Anya, watching her methodically take sugar packets form the small rack, open them, pour them into her spoon, drizzle them with syrup and eat them. "Slow down there, kid. You'll get diabetes if you keep that up."

"Look who's talking, Mr. 'Greasy Food Every Day'." Sam muttered, moving the sugar away from the girl. "Don't do that, Anya. You'll get a crash."

"What's a crash?" She asked him, staring at the confiscated sugar sadly.

"It's when you eat too much sugar or caffeine, get really hyper, and then become tired and moody when it wears off."

"Oh."

"Food's here!" The trilling voice of Cynthia cut off the argument, and she placed a plate in front of everyone but Castiel. "Enjoy!"

Sam laughed at the look on Anya's face; she was staring at the mound of food in front of her with an expression that was a mixture of happiness, disbelief and wonder.

"Wow!" She cried out. "There's so much!"

"And it's all for you." Sam unfolded her napkin and placed it in her lap. "But don't eat too fast."

"I won't!"

* * *

Everyone had finally finished, and Anya was the happiest they had ever seen her. Her cheeks were beginning to show some color, and the circles under her eyes were much less prominent. Cynthia returned to return Dean's "credit card". As they packed upto leave, she pulled him aside.

"I just want to say that your little sister is adorable!" She began. "But she's looking kind of unhealthy. Try and get some more food into her, okay?"

"We'll try." Dean nodded. "Thank you."

* * *

**As always, reviews are not only appreciated, but can also help with brainstorming and the writing process in general.**


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